Fretting and Moping
Log Title: Fretting and Moping Characters: Optimus Prime, Scales Location: Iacon Medical Center Date: May 26, 2019 TP: Nucleosis TP Summary: Both doctor and patient have a lot on their minds. Category:2019 Category:Logs As logged by '' Scales '''Log session starting at 00:24:41 on Monday, 27 May 2019.' Scales skitters to and fro in the medical center, first working at her bench, collating data, then going to check on patients to gather more, then sometimes sitting and listening to the shouts of Autobots far away, battling who knows what and calling over the broadband. She's a restless little dragon today. Still getting things done, but skittish and not sticking to anything for long. From time to time, she glances in at those in quarantine lock down, too, checking vitals remotely, adding data to the pile. Optimus sits in quarantine alone, away from any others also restricted. He is misery manifest - head down, staring dejectedly at the floor. Since he's awakened, he's said little besides presenting Scales with another sincere apology. Now he acts like there's nothing else he can do, not even offering his own extensive medical knowledge to the effort. The former Autobot leader looks broken, far more in spirit than physical progression of his disease. After a bit, Scales does settle- in front of Optimus. "Stop that," she tells him irritably as she tucks her paws under herself in a dragon loaf position. Optimus looks up at Scales, yellow optics narrowing. "Stop what?" he snaps. "I'm not doing anything?" Conflict boils behind his optics as aggression clashes with grief. While the disease makes him violent, at his core he is still Optimus. The struggle has consumed all his energy, leaving little for anything besides remorse and self-pity unbecoming a Prime. Even a former Prime. "I... heard a conflict," he says at last. "Is... everyone all right?" Scales hmms, thinking back over what she's heard. "I think so? There might be a couple hurt pretty bad, but it sounds like Saber managed alright." She resettles a bit, getting her tail tucked around herself just right. "Anyway, you're -moping-. It's not good for patients to do that." Optimus jumps to his feet. "What else do you expect me to do?" he yells, slamming his fist against the wall. Just as quickly he sits back down, pulling off his mouthplate and setting it aside. His seldom-seen face is creased with grief. "I'm sorry," he says, for the umpteenth time. "I know now it's the nucleosis, but... I still can't... handle the fact I'm so out of control. It's... not me." His voice dips. "But it must be within me." Scales sighs, her optics sliding to sympathetic blues. "Look, yeah... prob'ly," she says. "But it's also.. you stop it. Y'don't want it. Not like.." she drifts off a bit, more of those fretful yellows returning. "It'll be okay," she says, a bit hastily, as if reassuring herself, too. "I'll work with Backblast an' Ratchet and we'll get it licked." Optimus nods, keeping his aggression under control for now. "I... know you will. I have the utmost trust in all of you. Otherwise, I would not have placed myself in your hands. My... temper is out of control, but I'm still me. I care - I trust." He frowns. "While I wouldn't ask you to trust my judgement... I trust yours." He picks up his mouhtplate again, but simply taps it on a hard surface. Tap. Tap tap tap. Scales sits a bit, watching Optimus fidget in his own way. Her tail flicks loose and the tip twitches from side to side. Finally, she says. "I was scared. When I saw the orders," she confides. "Because I knew... I was gonna say no. An' with not knowin' -why- you were suddenly all like that, I wasn't sure how many other people I'd have t'say th'same to." She lays her head down, chin resting on the flat surface, looking up at Prime. "For all I knew, I was gonna have to grab everythin' I could and book it outta here, find somewhere else to work. But I was gonna do it if I had ta." Optimus sits in quarantine behind a forcefield. His mouthplate is off and he's holding in his hand, tap tap tapping it against a metal shelf. "I've... seen how many people would defy my orders and it gives me hope," Optimus replies to Scales. "Unthinking servitude - following me into the brink without questioning - that would be true defeat for me. Knowing that you and others would leave rather than ... act in accordance with my darker desires..." He blows air through his filters. "I'm glad. I know the Autobots have a moral center that exists beyond my command." Scales is curled up in a dragon loaf, resting her chin on the ground facing Optimus. She huffs a bit, letting a thin stream of smoke curl upwards from her mouth. "Yeah.. I was pretty happy when Backblast was still th'same.. an' Ratchet. Thought the question was settled." She eyes her own smoke, the fretful yellows still cycling through her optics as she thinks. Optimus chuckles. "When even Backblast is questioning my methods... well, he's come a long way and it seems I've regressed. I..." He looks ashamed. "I should have asked Xaaron to take command. Perhaps the Autobots should have civilian oversight until this disease has passed. Perhaps we should always have civilian oversight. I... I just don't know." He frowns deeply. "I can't trust my own impulses anymore," he says bleakly. Scales gets up. If it weren't for the forcefield, she'd nudge Optimus. Instead, she just waves her wings at him. "Hey. Hey. You're sounding like -Dust Devil- right now," she admonishes him. Optimus does something no one has seen him do in quite some time. He smirks. "Now you're just being insulting," he replies wryly. He stops tapping the mouthplate and sets it down. "I guess I should recharge," he says. "I have a long day of moping tomorrow," he half-jokes. Scales hehs and points a claw at him. "That's better," she says. "We'll get it cured. Don't worry 'bout that." She watches a bit longer, to make sure Optimus really is getting some sleep, before getting back to work. Log session ending at 01:22:29 on Monday, 27 May 2019.